


How Dare You Speak of Grace

by meaninglessblah



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Captivity, Imprisonment, M/M, Minor Character Death, Psychological Torture, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-06-14 23:29:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15399975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meaninglessblah/pseuds/meaninglessblah
Summary: Hux is captured during a strike against an enemy of the First Order. Kylo grapples with futility as he tries to meet the captors' demands without sacrificing his new position as Supreme Leader.





	1. Deceit

Hux dribbled blood into the grit, curling his fingers as the taste of salt and copper poisoned his lips. His forehead rose slowly off the ground, his eyes rising to watch his captors throw open the steel door to his cell. He pushed himself, his elbows trembling from his weight as he struggled upright.

Hands encircled his arms, hauling him to his knees as his whimpers rose to hoarse screams. Concrete grinded against his shins, his soles and the sides of his bare feet as he fought to force his weak legs to co-operate with his retainers’ pace. His vision blurred and warped before him, reducing his surroundings to a grimy grey smear as his eyes watered. His pleas wavered on trembling, blood-slicked lips as he was dumped on the floor.

He curled up, praying for a few moments of blissful respite before his next sliver of torment began afresh. Cold hands seized his burning flesh, jerking him to his knees and shoving him into a sit as he blinked away light-headedness. Fingers dug into his mandible, earning a stifled cry before his head was wrenched up.

The artificial lights that swayed overhead burned blindingly in his vision as harshly apathetic hands scrubbed at his lower face with a cloth. The blood that stained his skin broke away in streaks and flakes, until his skin was fresh. It was rubbed red, but it bleached pale with fever as a bucket of chilled water was dumped over him. 

Shivers wracked his thin frame, shaking him like a December tree in a storm as his captors draped a towel over his shuddering shoulders. He dried himself, coughing violently as his chest ached and dizziness threatened his precarious consciousness. 

He hastily dragged on the clothes he was thrown, guiding shaking limbs into ill-fitting pants that hung on his protruding hips like scraps of skin. He was wearily glad when the worn sweater that he tugged over his dripping hair obscured his too-prominent ribs from view. There was nothing to be done for his jittery hands, but he still tried futilely to hide them in the warm safety of large pockets before he was dragged into an adjacent room. 

This room was lit by a single light that beamed from a camera tripod, blinking before a bare concrete wall. Hux leaned back against it at his captor’s demands, fixing his gaze on his feet until he was ordered to meet the camera’s gaze. 

His eyes watered in the camera’s glare, spotting with tears as his captors rambled off their ransoms to the invisible audience. When they were done, he was stripped bare and shoved back into that dark cell.


	2. Shamelessness

Kylo stared at the blank holopad, his gloves hands fists on the tabletop, his gaze unwavering. 

“Play it again,” he instructed quietly, his tone tight and terse. 

The officer beside him only glanced at him once before his finger dropped to the console before them. On the holopad, a monochrome image flickered to life, played out in sickening quality before the small crew assembled. 

Demands flittered through Kylo’s ears without even scraping his consciousness, his dark eyes centred on the wavering orbs of his General. After a short while, the image faded, the holopad once again dormant, and Kylo could feel the presences of the command crew around him receding, as if recoiling from his unspoken wrath. 

“Explain to me again,” Kylo asked, his tone soft and deceptively calm – though none of the lieutenants in the room were foolish enough to believe his placidity, “why it was necessary for General Hux to personally attend on this mission?” 

His quiet query was met with a subtle exchange of glances, and Kylo finally looked up. Lieutenant Mitaka – Hux’s right-hand man, Kylo recalled – was the first to speak. 

“The General insisted on attending himself,” the lieutenant murmured, his tone quickening subconsciously. “He was the most familiar with the terrestrial species, of the command block.” 

“The strike was by all counts a show of strength,” Captain Peavey interjected, eager as ever to glean credit and attention from another’s input. “A military display; nothing more. We reviewed the schematics threefold. It should have been nothing more than a leverage display, to enable the General the upper hand in negotiations.” 

“And yet here we are, Commander Peavey,” Kylo retorted sharply. 

Peavey looked cowed beneath his tight lipped grimace. “Captain, sir.” 

“Come again?” 

Peavey glanced at the aide next to him, as if he very much wanted someone else to step in. “My rank is Captain, Supreme Leader.” 

“Not for much longer at this rate,” the taller man murmured, and Peavey paled a few shades. “It was you who organised the strike, wasn’t it?” 

“If you’re insinuating for a moment, sir, that I was responsible for– that I intended for–” Peavey began, but Kylo overrode him easily with his bellow. It came down like a whip in the room, cracking all of the assembled command block to attention. 

“Accountability, Captain Peavey. It’s what keeps the First Order on track. And it’s the exact lack of accountability demonstrated on this mission which has resulted in that–” Kylo jabbed a vicious digit at the dormant holopad, ignoring when half of the crew flinched, “–being an option of the enemy. Is that your show of strength, Captain Peavey? Please demonstrate where General Hux’s famed ‘upper hand’ comes into play.” 

The room rang with his silence, and it took Kylo a moment to force the spasming muscles in his hand to subside, sucking a sharp breath between clenched teeth. Then he spun on the slight man next to him, pressed in a neat grey uniform that reminded him of General Hux’s. 

“Lieutenant Mitaka,” Kylo barked, and the officer snapped to respectful, doting attention. “What were the ransomers’ demands?” 

“Several million credits, sir,” Mitaka responded dutifully, rattling off the list like he had memorised it. “A fleet of unmarked transport vessels, and several hundred gallons of refined coaxium.” 

“And what were they willing to exchange?” 

“…Sir?” 

Kylo turned his dark gaze on the man. “Who are they willing to exchange if their demands are met?” 

A vein in Mitaka’s throat jumped weakly as the man swallowed carefully. “Several troopers captured in the raid. Two commanders, and one of the cadets accompanying General Hux as an aide.” 

“But not General Hux,” Kylo interpreted. 

“No, sir.” 

“Have their demands been consistent?” 

“They’ve altered their amounts over the past three weeks, and only began requesting the coaxium in the last two recordings, Supreme Leader.” 

Kylo was silent for a long moment. “They’re not going to give him up.” 

“Sir?” 

Kylo pressed his eyes closed briefly, his veins singing with frustration and futility. “Nothing. How soon would we be able to have the items ready?” 

“We’ve already begun preparations, sir,” Mitaka informed him, consulting his datapad. “A support vessel should arrive in the next week with the coaxium, and we should be able to spare some outdated carriers as transport vessels–” 

“What else do they want?” 

“Sir?” 

Kylo bared teeth at the holopad, unsure whether he was more frustrated with the command block or his own futility. “What would it take to have General Hux returned to our possession? What else do they want?” 

“I… I don’t know, sir.” 

“Put men on it,” he ordered, already turning from the secluded room. “Use whatever resources you need. Tell me what it will take to have General Hux back on board this ship by the end of this week.”


	3. Violence

When he was summoned for the next recording, Hux discovered he wasn’t alone. 

There was another man, probably one who had accompanied him on the strike, but dressed in ill-fitting clothes and with a face as gaunt as his, it was difficult to tell who exactly he was. Both took up familiar positions against the wall, their palms resting flat at their sides and their gazes low. They made no sound to suggest disobedience, made no indication that they knew one another until their once benevolent captors laid a phaser against Hux’s companion’s temple. 

There was shouting, directed at the camera’s no doubt panicking audience, but the tendrils of alarm and fear didn’t reach the two captives. Hux simply took the man’s hand, out of sight and punishment of the camera and its crew, and acknowledged when it squeezed back. 

When the blood sprayed his face, Hux let go of the hand.


End file.
